


Its All Smoke and Mirrors Here in the Underworld

by Oran_Ct



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Harry, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oran_Ct/pseuds/Oran_Ct
Summary: Harry hated the fact that he was hiding so many things from his friends. He was tired, a bone-deep tiredness that was slowly killing him in ways he didn't know it could.He was tired of the lies and the hurt in Ron's eyes, he was sick of the jumpiness and the masks, so many of them...One for Dumbledore, one for the wizarding world, one for his real family. The only one who seems to see the real Harry, bare and naked with nothing to shield him from the world was one blond Slytherin that Harry should (really, really) not trust. But what can you say... Harry was never much a man of reason.





	Its All Smoke and Mirrors Here in the Underworld

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so here is my first fic. I was working on the idea for a long time now. I will try to update once a week at last but for now I'm working on the next chapter and I don't really know when I will get it out. Let me know in the comments if you want more and where you think I should get with it. ;)

The cool crispy winter air bit his skin as he swung on the rusting old swings, the ashes of his half burned cigarette falling slowly to the wet grass. Harry sighed and took one last deep drag, throwing what's left on the ground, stepping on it as he rose to stand. Harry looked back at the round that leads to his uncle and aunt house and sighed again.

Hermione says that he sighs too much for a “boy his age”, he thinks that sometimes she's as ridiculous as she is smart, like when she caught Ron and him smoking for the first time at 4th year, coughing and giggling from excitement and adrenaline. They got the full one-hour-lecture on “You got a madman on your tail, don't do his job and kill yourself before he even catches you!”

Harry shoved his lighter and the pack of cigarettes to the deep pockets of his large trousers, and start his semi-long walk to that dreadful house. His ankle starts to itch half way trough, after the “Lunch Disaster” yesterday it was extremely sore and itchy. He probably should take it to locked at, Harry knew that if he told Vernon that he think his ankle is broken he will take Harry to the hospital to get it checked. The only problem is, he’ll defiantly be getting a new set of bruises to add to the ones that are already blooming in ugly yellows and purple on his side. So he grits his teeth and keeps walking.

Harry looked up at the dark sky. It was late, about one am, he couldn't tell the hour exactly because he left his watch (his _broken_ watch, thanks to Dudley) on his nightstand in his small bedroom. 

 _‘At that hour everybody is asleep, probably.’_   He was proven wrong the moment he took a right turn and stopped at the small gate of 4 Privet Drive. The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear muffled shouts coming from inside. A bad feeling washed over him.

He made the quick decision to get in or flee. Harry groan in frustration and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he better get in and be over with it. Only one bloody month was left before the start of a new semester and he is out of here for another ten months, “Bollocks!”.

He took a deep breath and made himself as small as he can, passing the doorstep quietly. His uncle and aunt were standing next to the dining table, Vernon’s face was purple from anger, Petunia was sitting beside Dudley her mouth a straight line. Harry’s eyes scanned the faces in the room, his brain processing the situation, Vernon harsh eyes and angry mouth was aimed at his son, whose eyes were a little unfocused and cheeks rosy red, and Harry couldn't stop himself. 

“You’re drunk?” it came out with more amusement than disbelief, and Harry regrets ever opening his mouth. 

His uncle little eyes were directed at him now, snarl turning vicious “You…” It only took his uncle three steps to reach him. His hand rose and struck hard.

The force of the hit sent Harry a couple of steps back, “You! smoking and drinking and going to those filthy clubs.” Harry felt his face turn down by a frown, his breathing coming out short and fast, his check stung.

They knew about his little sneak outs to the city, He knew wasn't too quiet about them and he knew his uncle and aunt wouldn't like them (just another thing that makes him more a freak than the rest of the neighbourhood), he came back more than once, tipsy late at night when everybody was asleep, stumbling his way up the stairs. He just sort of thought they didn't really care (maybe hoping that someday he will get too drunk to tell his left from his right and get hit by a bus or something). 

Harry swallow slowly, he looked at the clock above the stove, one thirty, he could smell the alcohol coming off of his cousin. Vernon was so angry, his face becoming redder as his temper rose. “Because of you, my son was out drinking, what did you do, mmm?!”

“What?” Harry’s frown dipped.

He never saw Vernon move so fast, but one moment he was standing quietly fumbling with anger, and the next, his big, meaty, hand wrapped around Harry’s throat. Harry’s eyes went wide with panic and he could see the startled look on his aunt’s face as her husband pinned Harry against the wall. His head banged hard on the surface. “What. did. you. do?” Vernon tighten his grip, “With that freakish mumble jumbo of yours! did you threatened him?” His eyes turn to his son “did he threatened you?!” 

Harry tried to talk behind the harsh grip “I didn’t… d-do anyth-i-ing” He clawed at the hand, but Vernon only held tighter, Harry couldn't breathe, his feet were dangling in the air, barely touching the floor. “I c-can't breath…” 

“Vernon! That's enough, you are going to kill him!” Petunia’s voice was shaky.

“So what?” His eyes were staring at Harry’s, a mad look in them. “We should have never taken him, only bad stuff happened since he came.” His uncle leaned forward and he could feel his warm breath coming out in small short puffs, “All I need to do is squeeze a little harder and you’ll be gone, done and out of our lives…” 

Harry’s vision was starting to go black around the egads, his lungs were on fire. He could see his cousin, still a little wobbly on his feet but strong none the less, and his aunt grabbing his uncle. Their mouths were moving but he couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. 

The last thing he saw, was his uncle backing away, his hand releasing him, and has the feeling of utter _fear_ replies with a deep relief, his head hit the floor and the world turned black.

———————————

Harry woke up slowly, his throat felt sore. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was in his bedroom, the lumpy matters beneath him comforting in a sense. He closes is eyes, he wasn't wearing his glasses, and it made his head hurt when he stares too long at the hideous wallpaper his aunt loves so much.

His aunt and cousin probably carried him upstairs last night. He swings his legs over the bed’s edge and stumbles his way to the bathroom. He doesn't lift his eyes off the pink ceramic floor until he washes his face with cold water. Harry didn't want to face his reflection, he knew what he will see.

He slowly lifted his stare, up his shaky hands and skinny arms, pale and pattern with bruises, his chest was rising fast while he tried to breathe behind the lamp in his throat. Harry’s eyes stung with unshed tears. He could feel the crushing feeling that came with panic attacks slowly spreading all across his body, he didn't want to see the marks on his throat, he felt as if the ground is going to fall apart beneath his feet the moment he’ll look. Harry tried to breathe again and the air got stuck in his lungs, his head was spinning. 

He needs to breathe, all the air was gone and his head was pounding, he needs to breathe but he can’t. The feeling was too much like yesterday, the feeling of fire burning his chest as he tried to breathe, just breathe. slow and steady, breathe, breathe,  _breathe!_

His knees hit the floor with a loud _tund_  as he bends over the toilet, bills rising in his throat. He stood again in front of the mirror after he flashed the water, the shock of getting sick so suddenly broke his panic. This time more calmly, he looked at his reflection and blink. 

His face was wet from tears, his cheeks flushed and his mouth a straight line. His pale neck was covered with a big blue-purple bruise, undeniable, in a shape of a hand. His eyes start to water again, tears falling silently down his cheeks. He couldn't take it anymore, he wanted out of this house. Away from his uncle’s harsh words and thick fists, from his aunt’s disgust looks and his cousin’s stupid bullying.

Harry hurried to his room, he quickly packed his things and went to the loose board on the floor where he kept his most precious belonging and things he didn't want the Dursleys to find (Like the little bottle of makeup that was lying next to his photo album and his wand). He quickly shoved them in a small backpack, grabbing his trunk in his other hand. He made the way down the stairs as quiet as he could. 

His uncle was nowhere to be seen and Harry felt relief washing over him. He didn't think he could handle him right now. Even so, he could spot his aunt sitting on the sofa, she was facing him. He knew how he looked, red face, tears track drying on his cheeks, those ugly bruises standing out against his pale skin, it was probably a site to behold for her. “I’m leaving…” He said quietly.

She nodded, too quiet herself, she looked as if she wanted to say something, but the door suddenly opened with a loud noise, and then Vernon was standing in front of him. It was late again, but not too late, skies were a deep dark blue. All of that Harry could see before the door was shut close, and he was once again prison to his uncle wrath. 

“What are you doing freak?” Harry took a couple steps backward until the small of his back hit the table vase next to the cupboard. The larger man was looming over him now, his breath smelling of scotch, a hand came forward and grabbed Harry’s hair painfully, pulling his head backward. 

He closes his eyes trying to ignore the pain in is skull “I’m leaving! I’m going away, I won't come back!” He started crying again, he just wants to leave, to go to the Burrow, see familiar and friendly faces. “This is what you wanted right?” he looked up at his uncle his eyes pleading the man to let him go. “You won't have to see me ever again, I will get out of your life. I promise I promise…” his body was shaking from uncontrolled sobs. 

Vernon slapped him hard, knocking him off of his feet. “Yeah right, and then you will go to your freakish little friends and tell them all about mean evil little me” his knee came crashing into Harry’s side, banging his body against the leg of the table. “But they don't know, They don't know what it is to live with a freak like you. An abomination, even for them you're a freak. Sending you away from them, you're nothing to them. They don't care about you. They force you on us! The normal people, the good ones so they wouldn't have to deal with you!” All trough his speech Vernon kept delivering hard kicks to Harry’s body.

He wants to leave, to leave and never come back. He hates them, he loathes them so much. He just wants to leave… He was starting to panic again, his uncle brought his fist down hard on the boy's head. He wants to leave, he doesn't want to be here, he wants to be in the Burrow. All of a sudden a tingling-electrify feeling started to spread in his body, beginning in his fingertips and shooting all the way to his chest. And then there was this crushing pressure like he was sucked trough a tube too small. And then silence.

No more shutting, or the loud noise of foot hitting his chest. But instead light breeze and the sound of crickets, the feeling of soft grass instead of a hard cold floor. Harry looked up, and indeed he was lying in a lush green field, the grass rocking lightly with the soft wind. In the distance, not so far away, the Burrow stood proudly and bend, its shocking orange and red color a strong contrast even against the dark skies.

He stood on shaky legs, stumbling his way as fast as he can to the door. He lifts his hand to knock but the door was pulled open before he could. “What' all the noise abou- Harry what hell?!” It was one of the twins, but Harry couldn't tell trough the tears.

“I c-can’t, I can’t go back, I-I don't want to… please, please-“

“Whoa, hey relax Harry, relax.” there were hands holding his face, making him lock eyes with Fred’s (He could recognize his voice now that he concentrate) blue once “You won’t have to go back, ever.”  Harry was holding on to his arms, his fingers clinging and flexing and all of a sudden, the older boy’s arm warped around him and he was pulled into a hug. He held tight onto broad shoulders, his breathing coming out in short and shallow. “Who did this? Harry, I need you to tell me, who did this?”

He shook his head “You can't to do anything, please not now.” he opened his eyes to look behind Fred’s shoulder. Ron, Bill, and Gorge were standing quietly, not making a sound, he quickly shifts his gaze the ground. 

“It was them, wasn't it?” Ron asks quietly, “Those horrible Muggles, oh Harry…” 

And like he was suddenly pulled out of the water, he could hear better and his site became clear, and Harry remembered why he didn't tell anybody about his “home”- life. He didn't want their pity, he didn't need it. He was used to the beating and the harsh langue. He took a deep breath and felt his face turning blank for a moment before he pulled himself from Fred’s hold on him. He gave them a side smirk. “Come on guys, Don't take it so seriously. I was in a bar there was a quarrel, you should see the other guy, you know.” 

He knows they didn't believe a single shit he was spilling out, especially after his brutal breakdown. His shaky voice was ringing in his ears making him feel sick to his stomach _“I can’t go back?”. What was he thinking?_ that's right, he wasn't. He let his fear from his uncle to take control over him, he let himself be weak and vulnerable. He was pathetic. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

He could drag Ron, the Weasels, to his fuck up family life. Harry brought enough sorrow to them. He would rather lie about it, then voice out loud how weak he really was. Harry pull his baggage behind him as he made his way to the living room. “Oi, mate you got a light? I forgot mine”. He pulled the package of cigarets from his back pocket and wave them in front of Ron’s face. His best friend looked like he wanted to say something, but probably figure out that he wouldn't get anything from him tonight, or at all, Harry thought.  

“Amm sure.. here.” he trough the lighter and the black hair boy caught it effortlessly.

“Cheers!” Harry light up the cigarette and step outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome <3


End file.
